Good Shot
by Artemis3737
Summary: Mac hates guns. Why? Can he actually shoot a gun? Mac has a secret past that no one knows about, until now.


Mac sat in the white room, looking at his dossier on the table. Patricia Thornton was sitting across from him.

"Angus MacGyver. Former EOD tech. Genius. Can make something out of anything."

"Yes, ma'am," Mac confirmed, making eye contact.

His hopefully soon-to-be boss flipped through the file, nodding at some information. Mac wanted a paperclip. But, since he didn't have one, he just fiddled with his watch.

Thornton frowned, "No guns?"

Mac honestly didn't want to elaborate, "No, ma'am."

The director stared at MacGyver, clearly waiting for a good explanation. This line of work was dangerous, so he needed to protect himself somehow.

After getting no answer, Thornton breathed deeply, "Okay. I see what this is. It will be fine; one of my finest agents can teach you how to shoot."

Mac furrowed his brow, "No, that is not what I mean-"

"It is fine. Follow me," Thornton said, motioning for Mac to come with her.

As soon as they got out of the room, an agent was standing by the door, "Hello, Mr. MacGyver. Ready to brush up on your shooting from the military?"

"Ma'am," Mac said, looking at Thornton, "I know how to shoot a gun."

Thornton smiled, "Okay. Well, then, you can practice."

"I don't like shooting guns. That is what Jack is here for, to watch my 6," Mac said, shuddering at the thought of shooting an electronic piece of equipment that has the capability of causing much more pain than a quick death would…

Thornton was becoming less calmer, "MacGyver, if you want to have a job here, you will carry and _shoot_ a gun."

Mac sighed, "What if I show you that I am a good shot? Will you let me not carry a gun?"

Thornton contemplated this, "It will be taken into deep consideration."

Mac half-grinned, "As long as you think about it, ma'am."

* * *

Mac stared at the 9 mm gun he was holding. It had 16 rounds. _They actually didn't believe that he could shoot well._

After making sure Thornton and the other male agent had their ear protection (Thornton had decided to come), he cocked his gun and aimed it at the large paper's red dots for the kill shots.

After calculating trajectory and taking into account the gun's recoil, he was ready to shoot.

BAM!

BAM!

A head and heart shot. Kill shots. Exactly in the middle of the red dot. And it was pretty far too, not the normal usual distance.

Mac was relieved, "Can I not carry a gun now?"

 _Andy_ (he talked a _lot_ on the way to the indoor range!) looked stunned. His eyes were wide and wasn't really watching as Mac cleaned up his area and the objects he used. Thornton, however, was unfazed.

Andy chuckled, "Have you ever considered being a sniper?"

Uh-oh. Mac's face flushed and he started itching his neck, "Um, no. Not really. Never really thought about it. Seems too complicated. Um, I am going to go."

Thornton had her serious face on, "Angus, I read your other file. I just wanted to see if your legend still lived on."

Angus _really_ didn't want to talk about this. She was the only person who knew about it now. So, he just nodded and headed for the door.

Before he closed the door all the way, he heard Thornton's voice, "Just to let you know, the shooting paper was doubled its maximum length. Great shot."

 _Damn it. He was supposed to do bad!_

* * *

" _Ramsen. Get down!" Mac said, knowing he could shoot all of the bad guys._

 _And he did. 30 seconds later, the path was clear for his marine unit to get to their main objective: a warehouse with bombs galore._

" _Yo, beef, we are going to head up the path. You covering us?" Lee Coho asked, already moving._

" _Copy, salmon," Mac said, chuckling at Angus and Coho, both foods._

" _Guys, bomb! Watch-"_

* * *

Mac woke up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating and having old scars ripped open from the nightmare that was caused by the the interview.

He got up quickly and just got right in front of the toilet before all of the contents of his stomach were emptied.

He was _never_ shooting a gun again. He would retire, he would quit, he would rather use a knife than a gun.

Because, on the day he woke up in the hospital, when all of his brothers were dead, he made a vow.

He made a vow to protect the most people as possible, to do the best he possibly could, and to _never_ shoot a gun.

If he had been EOD then, everyone would be alive. He would be hanging out with Ramsen, Coho, and maybe even Tuan. Instead, he _was_ \- _past tense_ \- a sniper.

So, no, he didn't like guns. And, no, he would never shoot one again.


End file.
